


Starlight

by Argothia



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argothia/pseuds/Argothia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a spring filled with terrible storms and floods, summer brings alarming news to Redwall. Strange, warlike vermin are prowling through Mossflower and their intent isn't difficult to guess. They quickly leave a vicious impression on the poor peaceful woodlanders who must take up arms to defend themselves.<br/>As violent altercations begin to break out between the woodland residents and the strange vermin, a young mouse called Rowan and his younger sister arrive at Redwall. With his arrival prophesied to the Abbess in a dream from Martin, will this young former oar slave really be able to protect the peace of Redwall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: End of the Sorrowful Spring

**Author's Note:**

> I've been tinkering with this fic on and off for the past couple of years and I figured it was about time I let other people see it. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it!

A robin hunched her small shoulders and snuggled down protectively over the eggs in her nest shielding them from the rain that had swollen the River Moss well beyond it's banks. So far her little tree had been safe so high above the raging waters and thankfully it seemed as though the endless rain's pace was slackening more and more every day. An end to these storms couldn't come soon enough. Many had lost homes and worse in the relentless storms. She had been one of the fortunate ones and she'd still had her fair share of troubles throughout the season. It had been a bad spring for all involved and she had hoped the summer would be better.  
Now however as she watched a huge, yellow-eyed pine marten, leap from the bow of a small rickety boat to the river's new shore, she wished that she had chosen to build her nest somewhere else.  
She tensed as the keen yellow eyes spied her and lingered for a moment, but the pine marten seemed to quickly lose interest. Instead he turned viciously on the vermin who were not so skillful or bold as their leader. "What are you cowards dilly-dallying for? I want all paws ashore in five minutes or you'll all wish you'd fallen in this pretty water before I'm finished with you. Have I made myself clear?"  
With much scrambling and splashing the majority of the boat's burden was alleviated, only a few remained behind to steer the boat back to the opposite shore. The soaked vermin stood trembling before their leader. One of the driest, a nervous weasel, stepped forward and reported. "All present 'n h'ccounted fer, sir."  
"I should hope so." The pine marten's hooded eyes scanned the forest. "Right then. I want you all to spread out, no more than two to a group, scout out the area, you know what to look for."  
"Wot do we do if'n some beast spots us." A stoat ventured, almost hopefully.  
The pine marten sniffed contemptuously. "What should it matter if they spot you, addle-brain? You're just some poor traveler who's passing through." The dangerous yellow eyes fixed on the vermin once more. "Aren't you?"  
The entire group gulped in unison and nodded vigorously. "Aye, sir, that's the ticket."  
"Just what I was hoping ya'd say, sir."  
With calm grace the pine marten pulled his cloak tight about him and stalked off into the brush. "Then get to it and remember, at first word of anything worth investigating, you report to me, immediately!"  
The vermin gave a loud cry of agreement and scurried off into the undergrowth in many different directions.  
In the trees above the robin released the breath she had been holding in a long, low sigh. Desperately she wished she could pick up her nest and leave as soon as possible. Though it pained her deep in her heart to think it, she knew the wood she had called her home wasn't safe anymore.  
Evil had come to Mossflower.


	2. Book One: Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go

Thunder roared overhead and the sea returned the skies challenge, reaching higher and higher. The waves fell short of their adversary though, and so took their loss out upon the three beasts clinging desperately to their broken and overturned boat. The only thing that held them afloat. The tiny group was tossed about, this way and that as the water and wind vented their rage down on them.  
“Don't let go, Ro!” yelped the young fox as the mouse's paws began to slip. “We'll make it yet, just hang in there!”  
Rowan clung to the wood as tight as he could but his strength was failing, he was tired and cold. He coughed. “I don't know if I can, mate, I'm so sleepy.”  
Baring yellowed fangs the fox grasped the mouse by the scruff of the neck, hauling him up for a better grasp on the boat. “What kinda talk is that, mate! You're scaring poor Elowen!”  
The young mouse looked over at his trembling sister who stared at them both with wide, unseeing eyes. Before her brother could speak the tiny mousemaid whimpered, “Oh, Rowan, do listen to Dagger, we can make it I'm certain!”  
Rowan reached over and gripped his sister's tiny hand. “Aye, we'll be ashore before you know it.”  
“That's the spirit.” Dagger panted. “Now the both of you, we been through worse then this storm could throw at us! Let's make for land and just let it try and stop us!”  
“Aye!” the siblings cried in unison.  
The trio fought and struggled through the waves towards the sight of dunes in the distance, but no matter how hard they swam, the shore never seemed any closer. The current was against them, breaking free of it would be no easy task.  
Rowan bit his lip and glanced over at his sister, she was holding up as well as could be expected. Then to Dagger. Despite his words of encouragement earlier the fox looked as though he were about to slip unconscious any moment. His tongue lolled out one side of his mouth and every movement seemed to hurt him. Rowan felt for the russet colored beast, he knew how bad broken ribs could be.  
Doggedly, the young mouse pushed the boat onward doing his best to pick up the slack of his frail sister and injured friend. They hadn't escaped slavery aboard the Blackclaw just to die because of some pathetic storm.  
Suddenly, the world seemed to grow darker than before, the water dragged backwards pulling the hapless creatures with it. Above the beasts towered an enormous wave. No time to react, barely time to think and the rushing mass fell down upon them like a mighty hammer. The boat was smashed to bits and Rowan was driven under by the force.  
Rolling and tumbling this way and that, Rowan still managed to hold tightly to his little sister's paw desperately trying to pull her upwards to fight the current that dragged them towards the depths. Finally, the swirling water subsided a bit and the young mice were able to make the surface.  
With one arm still wrapped about Elowen's waist and one of her tiny arms slung over his shoulders Rowan looked frantically for Dagger,. “Dagger, where are you!? Come on, mate, answer me!”  
There was no response, though he called for probably longer then he should have with waves crashing down around him and his sister.  
Elowen's grip on her brother's shoulder tightened. He knew what she was thinking, he was thinking it too. His free paw balled into a fist. Why hadn't he grabbed Dagger, too? He'd known that the fox was having trouble swimming. Hot tears of guilt and sorrow mingled with the sea water already drenching his fur. There was nothing for it, he had to get Elowen to shore. He could do nothing for Dagger now, except pray that he would survive.

Soon Rowan dragged himself and his sister out of the water and onto the sandy beach. The big wave had thrown the pair out of the current that had held them back before and the storm was beginning to grow weaker now.  
The mice laid on the beach gasping for precious air like they had not tasted it for seasons. It took quite a while before Rowan deemed his lungs to be in working order and finally stood. The rain still beat down heavily on them but the wind had begun to die down and the waves were fewer and less menacing then before.  
The young mouse studied the vast waters looking for any sign of his missing friend, but as before he saw nothing but water, and his calls for the fox went unanswered. His whiskers drooped. They had come this far, lasted this long, and now, they had been separated? He sat down heavily in the sand, he had lost his best friend.  
He dried his tears as Elowen called for him, he had to be strong. He turned to her. “Yes?”  
“W-what'll we do now?”  
Rowan sighed and looked about. “First we get out of this rain, don't need to catch cold on top of all the rest of our problems.”  
He led his blind sister along the shoreline. The rain still fell heavily and a mist was rising across the water making it hard to see very far, but Rowan soon spotted a rocky ledge hung thick with strange plants. Ivy, he guessed. Silently he directed his shivering sister into the damp haven and the pair rested. Rowan did his best to keep watch but despite his efforts his eyelids sank lower and lower. Finally, exhaustion overcame the young beast and he slipped into a fitful slumber.

***

Redwall Abbey was bathed in the light of a rising sun and the abbey beasts were coming awake. Those on kitchen duty and those in charge of planting spring crops were stirring their tired bodies after a well deserved rest. This day would be no different from the last few, they would rise, go about their chores, and go to bed all with the cheerful summer sun shining on them.  
However, Abbess Beatrice feared she smelled a storm approaching. With a shawl wrapped tightly about her she had mounted the western wall late the night before and now stood staring out across the path and the ditch, into the distance. She shivered despite the warmth of the sun at her back. Silently she watched the clouds that came from the west, praying that whenever the storm came it would not bring floods or a late frost. Mossflower had already suffered a flood that had claimed far too many lives the season before.  
The abbey doors below swung open so forcefully that they slammed against the walls as dibbuns poured out into the courtyard hooting and hollering with joy.  
Abbess Beatrice turned about and smiled sadly at the sight. The children who tumbled and rolled about on the green grass looking as though they hadn't a care in the world were mostly orphans of the floods. There were twelve young beasts playing on the abbey lawns and of them nine were orphans. The two molebabes belonged to the abbey's resident foremole's crew and the well-mannered hedgehog, who was nearly too old to be considered a dibbun now, was the young niece of the current cellarhog.  
It was the hedgehog maid who kept the unruly bunch in line most of the time. She could still get into trouble when she had a mind to, but because of that and her age the others would follow her lead in anything, including the good things.  
“Ahoy, Mother Abbess!” A powerful voice hailed the old badger from the road below. “How goes it with me favorite young beauty, eh?”  
Her smile turning more cheerful the Abbess looked down at the huge otter who stood at the gates with half his crew in tow. “Why, Skipper Swift, you young flatterer, what brings you to my abbey so early?”  
“What else!?” The battle-scarred otter winked at her with a broad grin. “I couldn't stop meself from dropping by to see yor lovely face, marm. Will ye be invitin' us in or leavin' a poor otter 'n 'is crew to perish from 'unger without good ol' abbey vittles?”  
“Uh-huh, I thought as much.” The abbess chuckled but leaned back and nodded to the Foremole Gruffur who had just stepped out of the gatehouse. “Do open the gates for our good friends, Foremole, they do seem quite famished, perhaps we should treat them to breakfast?”  
“Burr, aye, brekkiefast indeed.” Gruffur sniffed as he disappeared beneath the archway. “That thur h'otter tries ta doink oi in 'e pond agin 'n oi'll lock 'm out gud 'n toit.”  
“Me dear ol' Foremole Gruffur!” The hulk of an otter scooped the old mole up into his arms and held him aloft as soon as the gates were open. “That was ages ago now!”  
“It wurr last week.” snorted Gruffur.  
Abbess Beatrice chuckled at the pair's antics as she descended the stairs from the walltop. Despite the Foremole's grumbling the two were actually close friends. It was sometimes amusing to watch, the pair never seemed to really argue, only playfully tease each other.  
As the old friends continued to disagree over whether enough time had passed for Swift to be forgiven or not, Beatrice scanned the group that the otter had brought with him. Seven powerful young otters with a small group of young ones. She grew suspicious. The seven looked an awful lot like a protective guard, now relaxing in the safety of the abbey. The young ones were, by the Abbess's count all of the crew's kits plus the little shrewmaid that Swift had adopted several seasons earlier. The older ones were carrying small packs that likely contained all that they owned.  
“Swift.” Beatrice addressed the otter firmly. “I think it's time you told me why you're really here.”  
The old otter sobered as he looked up from his conversation with his mole friend. “Aye, marm, though I fear you ain't gonna like it. But first, if you don't mind. Lil uns, why don't you go play with the others on the lawn, yeah?”  
The small otters looked uncertain until the youngest of the big guards scooped up one from among them, the young shrew, who protested with a loud squeak as the otter started walking, placing her on his shoulders. “Come on, mateys, you got plenty o' playin' and rompin' to do, so shift your rudders.”  
“Oh! Put me down, ye great oaf!” The little shrew battered the back of her captor's head. “I can walk on me own!”  
The little otters bounded after the strange pair completely abandoning their hesitation for laughing at the shrew's antics.  
Swift smiled as they left. “That Riptide, he sure knows what he's doin' sometimes.”  
“He certainly doesn't get that from you,” teased the Abbess. “Young Malva's grown well since I last saw her.”  
Seating himself on the ground, Swift began drawing circles in the dirt with a claw. “Aye, tis 'ard to believe she was so little when I found her on the banks o' the river.” Swift sighed wistfully. “I miss the days when she was only a little terror, now she's a big'un.”  
Gruffur chuckled. “Boiten off more'n ye can chew, Swiff? You'm alrudy had your paws full wi' Riptoide! Shrew's be a moight toffer ta bring up 'n' otters.”  
Swift sniffed and patted the moles digging claw. “Don't ye worry your velvety 'ead, messmate, I'm handlin' her just fine. Anyhow, Rip's almost grown now and he's been helpin' look after her.”  
Beatrice nodded, approvingly. “Well, that's that, but it's not the reason you're here, is it, Swift?”  
“No, marm.” With a sigh the big otter stood up. “But let's go inside fer that talk, eh?”  
The badger nodded. “As you wish.”

Seated in the gatehouse with a hot cup of tea and a few oatcakes with honey for each of them, delivered personally by Friar Tod, the three friends began their talk.  
Skipper Swift mainly ignored his tea, being mostly uninterested in the stuff, as he gave his report to the Abbess. “Last season I started seein' them. Odd vermin, not the local kind, Mossflower vermin are mostly 'armless nowadays 'n most o' 'em 'r nice enough, but not this lot. They were warriors, each of 'em carryin' high quality weapons and looked meaner than ol' Gruffur when breakfast's late.”  
Gruffur scowled but said nothing so as not to interrupt the report.  
Swift continued. “I spotted 'em again after the floods, skulking 'bout and scavenging from whatever the flood left behind. This time it was a big ol' Pine Marten and a pair of ferrets and I actually confronted them. So I asks, 'You don't look like yor from 'round 'ere, mates. Where 'bouts ya from?' and the big marten says, 'from 'ere 'n there, riverdog, we're just passin' through.' Now normally I wouldn't get suspicious but I'd seen these three and their sort sneakin' 'bout since the middle o' spring 'n if they were just passin' through they'd 'ave been long gone.  
“They're still nosin' about out there, I've seen 'm every now and again, a ferret here, a stoat there, and that big pine marten creeping around like they're lookin' for somethin'. Two days ago they got a bit too close to the holt for my likin'. I don't relish the idea o' them vermin stumblin' on our lil ones, so I had a talk with the crew and they all agreed it'd be best to ship 'em all here.  
“I know you got your paws full with the waifs, so as sorta a peace offering I'll be leaving a guard here with you too. They can sure eat, but I'd trust my life to anyone of them. It's still possible that I'm off course on this idea, but I think it'd be a good idea to–”  
Abbess Beatrice held up her paw for silence before Swift could continue his advice. “Our abbey will happily accommodate the little ones and your warriors, Swift. Though I'm loath to be wary of travelers I promise you we'll keep our eyes and ears open for danger.”  
The otter chieftain nodded, gratefully. “Tis all I ask for, Mother Abbess.”  
The Matthias and Methuselah bells tolled startling the three friends who hadn't realized that their talk had dragged on so long. With quiet smiles the trio got up and ambled outside to see what was for lunch.


End file.
